One Hell of a Mess
by Alligates
Summary: It is very early in the morning, and Tony is in the kitchen. He most certainly has not made a very big mess. Only, it's hard to support that claim when Captain America appears when you least want him there and sees everything. Light Stony, can be slash if you so prefer. Fluff.


**Yet another tumblr drabble! Light Stony in this one, if you ship it. **

**From a prompt by _astupidfathobbit_ on tumblr. **

**By the way you should all go to my writing blog, _alligatesthewordsmith_, and sEND ME PROMPTS. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU PEOPLE WANT. BUT I CAN TRY TO PLEASE YOU IF YOU PROMPT ME!**

**Okay, enjoy! (and please go prompt me)**

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"That is one hell of a mess," were the first words Tony heard that morning, causing him to jump in surprise as he let out an unintelligible scream. He spun around to face the speaker, who was none other than Steve Rogers, looking surprisingly and annoyingly well-rested, despite the fact that it wasn't even yet five in the morning and the sun had yet to rise.

It took Tony a few seconds to realize the implications of Steve's presence, and then he gasped, spreading out his arms to hide as much of the kitchen (and all the _stuff _covering the counters and the floor) as he could. It was a fairly ineffective tactic, considering his slightly small frame and the enormity of the space he was trying to cover, but that didn't stop him trying.

"S-Steve! Uh, hi! Good morning—um—I… why are you doing up so early?" he finished rather lamely, complete with a nonchalant wave of his hand that was either a greeting or a dismissal and honestly Tony didn't know because _why was Steve awake so early he didn't have time for this he needed to make him __**leave **__for at least a few more minutes or hours and_—

"I could ask you the same thing, Shellhead."

Tony blinked. What had they been talking about? "What?"

"Why are _you _up so early?" Steve clarified, clearly taking amusement from Tony's agitation. He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, glancing not-so-subtly at the mess behind the other man's outspread arms.

"None of your business," Tony said immediately, without really thinking.

Steve merely raised an eyebrow. "I suppose your apron is none of my business either, then?"

Tony glanced down, and felt his face heat up as he realized that he was wearing _that _apron—the one that Natasha had had custom made for him (and that was secretly his favourite): it was the red-and-white striped one, with Captain America's shield adorning the pocket in front.

"No, it's not," Tony replied, turning away so Steve wouldn't see his red face (no, he was not _blushing_; Tony Stark did not _blush_.)

Then the oven dinged.

Tony screamed.

"And what might that be?" Steve asked, smirking knowingly.

Tony ignored him, haughtily pulling on his oven mitts and pulling out the… cake. Yes, that was a cake. It was a little lopsided, and there were messy red and blue splotches in it that had bloomed out of their original precise shapes, but it was definitely a cake.

For the next ten minutes, Tony completely shut out Steve's presence as he neatly spread the different colours of frosting in some semblance of an American flag, pointedly not looking at the frosting that had _malfunctioned _during his first attempt and now haphazardly littered the room.

When it was all done, Tony took every single candle he could find and shoved them all around the flag's stars, lighting more or less all of them as he presented the cake to Steve, daring him to question his actions as he set it on the table.

Steve was still smirking that _horrible _knowing smirk. "And what's this?"

"Happy birthday, you paleolithic fossil," Tony said simply.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not _paleolithic, _Tony," Steve laughed, moving to sit beside him at the table.

"Oh, no. Believe me. You are."

Steve smiled softly. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony looked at him, letting out a small smile of his own. "Yeah, you're welcome, Cap."

They ate in contented silence for a moment before Steve spoke up.

"You know you're going to have to clean all of this up later, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Tony grumbled, hiding a yawn. He didn't want to admit that he was _so _tired, and baking was _hard, _and that he'd been working all night because something kept going wrong, and there was probably some of his blood mixed into the frosting because _electric whisks_.

"So… what exactly happened?"

"Oh, nothing," Tony said innocently.

Steve was still smirking.

"Shut up," said Tony. "It's delicious."

"It is," Steve agreed.

Tony felt a lot happier than he thought was appropriate right then.

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**This is my first time writing in the avengers fandom and? It was fun, I must say. **

**Thank you for reading! :D**


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